


the lamb and the knife

by thorvaenn



Category: Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bodily Fluids, Imperialism, Intersex Loki (Marvel), Jotun Loki, M/M, Master/Slave, Non-Consensual Bondage, Non-Consensual Spanking, Overstimulation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Play, Pre-Thor (2011), Slavery, Thor: Ragnarok (2017) Spoilers, Whipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-07 03:41:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorvaenn/pseuds/thorvaenn
Summary: Nobody challenges Hela in her greed and cruelty, except for her younger brother and second in command, Thor. And Thor has a new toy he doesn't want to share.Canon divergence inspired by Ragnarok - Thor and Hela are raised together and both serve Odin in conquering the universe.Looking his fill, Thor pops a couple of pieces of meat into his mouth and washes it down with wine. Only then does he address his gift.“You have a name?”“You have a brain?”





	the lamb and the knife

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CalamityCain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CalamityCain/gifts).



> Oof. To sum it up - this is a PWP set in the described canon divergence - Thor is the second born and Hela is not banished. Obviously, Thor is not quite as we know him.
> 
> This is non-con, full on kink with a lot of focus on vaginal torment. The non-con also happens briefly between Loki and Hela.
> 
> Now that we've gotten that out of the way, please enjoy because this was extremely fun to write. Bless Ragnarok for being so inspiring!

_**This is a gift, it comes with a price  
Who is the lamb and who is the knife?** _

_**\- Florence and the Machine** _

 

Thor will have to watch his new gift carefully, he's sure. He saw the look in Hela's eyes when the Jotun – runty but beautifully formed – was given to Thor.

 

She is greedy, his sister. She is the leader of their armies, the heir, and they have already all but subjugated Jotunheim, all the riches and bountiful slaves from the capital piled underneath her feet. This, what they are doing now, is barely more than a border patrol. She doesn't even need to be here, no, this is Thor's job as the second son, second in command, to ensure the smaller jobs are done well, taking provincial comforts where he can. But she _is_ here and she has seen what is now waiting tied up in Thor's tent.

 

He supposes he better enjoy it while he still can.

 

He walks through the camp, checking on the troops. Jotunheim is not welcoming to them, with the heavy, low hanging skies constantly churning with snow and icy rain, but the Asgardians are emboldened by victory, as they always are. And the spoils are rich. Every tent is filled with furs and steaming liquor is handed out to the soldiers from large cauldrons, stolen from the chief tents of all the smaller Jotnar tribes they've defeated.

 

Confident that everything in the camp is in order, he finally retires to his tent. Larger than all the others, save for his sister's, it's an unexpected bubble of warm comfort. The thickly oiled canvas of the roof is high enough for him to stretch, arms raised, and the walls and floor are thickly pelted with furs. Braziers warm the space, giving it a low, intimate glow. There is seating and food and wine, and a comfortable bed and that's what Thor is thinking of now. The bed and what is upon it.

 

He looks even better now, marginally cleaned by some servants of the blood and mud of the battle. Every inch of blue skin is on display as he sits on the edge of the bed, hands tied to the bed post.

 

If his sister wants to take this from him, she will have to try exceptionally hard.

 

Looking his fill, Thor pops a couple of pieces of meat into his mouth and washes it down with wine. Only then does he address his gift.

 

“You have a name?”

 

“You have a brain?”

 

Thor pauses. Anger threatens to rise up but what bubbles out instead is a startled laugh. Very well, then. Nobody could ever accuse him of not liking a fight.

 

The Jotun has black hair, a pretty curtain of it. Thor approaches him, confident, sliding his hand into it and pulling back, forcing him to look up, face and gaze unobstructed.

 

“I can call you slave. Or bitch. Or you can give me your name.”

 

He's landed a strike, it seems, as the Jotun jerks despite not getting far thanks to Thor's firm hold on his hair. Red eyes flash in contempt but he speaks, finally. “It's Loki.”

 

“Well, Loki, it seems that you can be reasonable. Tell me, how will this night go?”

 

It will only go one way. Thor's gaze travels lazily towards Loki's crotch. This is not the best angle for viewing no, but even so he sees a soft, blue cock, a bit small though not overly so considering that Loki himself couldn't be considered large even for an Asgardian. But Thor is interested in what lies underneath.

 

It seems that despite his previous burst of defiance, this little Jotun isn't ruled by pride and he actually pauses, wetting his lips nervously. Thor waits. He would prefer some acquiescence. He feels the strain of the battle in his muscles still and besides, it would be a shame to break a toy this pretty.

 

“Should I trust any promises of gentleness?”

 

“I'm not sure I'm promising you gentleness,” Thor chuckles. Then drops down to a crouch, caressing Loki's cheek. “Is that what you want? A promise of concern? Romance, even? Will that make you part your legs for your new master?”

 

A snarl and a yank hard enough to almost tear his own hair out, since Thor's grip is unrelenting.

 

“You wouldn't be trying to lull me into complacency, would you?” Thor asks mildly, not allowing Loki to break eye contact. “Put on a little shy show and then try and strike in an opportune moment?”

 

There's definite nervousness in Loki's eyes now. And he's silent. Thor clucks his tongue.

 

“Sweetheart, I'm afraid you've met a man who is too used to dealing with snakes on daily basis.”

 

He lets go of his grip on Loki's hair and stands to start disrobing. Once he's bare chested and reaches for his belt, Loki speaks again. “Alright, wait. No promises. But I am- I am not without skill. I have seidr. I would make a very useful servant.”

 

Seidr.

 

Well, now Thor will have to watch out for Hela doubly.

 

And for Loki too. Shrugging, Thor covertly looks at the ropes that bind Loki to the bed post. They're laced with silvery substance, meaning they dampen magic. That's good news for the immediate moment, but as soon as he's done here, Thor will have to figure out who and why decided to use these bindings on Loki. If it was by chance, a precaution, or if the soldier was already aware he was dealing with a magic user.

 

And of course, he would have to see if the soldier was loyal to him or to his sister.

 

He wishes for once he could just fuck and enjoy himself without her slinking presence always in the back of his mind, an invisible but ever present threat at his back.

 

Suddenly impatient he undoes the only the loop that secures Loki to the bedpost and yanks him higher onto the bed by his tied wrists, pressing them into the bedding above his head.

 

It sets off a bout of panicked squirming that Thor easily puts an end to by putting his weight on Loki, pressing with one knee first, then the other until Loki's legs are parted around his thighs. Giving an experimental roll of hips, Thor tries to find out how it feels, whether he can tell there is a cunt hiding behind that cock.

 

He strokes Loki's face briefly before moving to wrap his hand around Loki's throat. He doesn't squeeze, but it works like a charm and Loki goes limp underneath him, staring up, openly terrified now.

 

An old fear, perhaps? Or a sudden understanding of how little Thor would have to do to kill him? He doesn't know but he presses the advantage, leaning down for a kiss.

 

What he gets is less of a kiss and more a press of wet mouths, teeth clashing, but it satisfies him anyway, cock hardening against the underside of Loki's thigh.

 

Thor moves to the side, keeping Loki's legs spread with one thigh, making himself comfortable enough to hold his bound wrist securely with one hand while the other is free to roam.

 

He splays his fingers of Loki's heaving chest. It's been years since he saw a proper sun, spending all his time on this campaign without a break and so his skin is pale; large hand in stark contrast to the rich blue hue of Loki's skin.

 

Thor really likes this toy.

 

“Don't be so scared,” he whispers, almost mockingly. “We've agreed gentleness isn't what we're after, but nothing has been said of pleasure so far...”

 

And to demonstrate, he takes a dusky blue nipple between his lips and sucks. The hitch of breath is delicious, as is the hint of musk that lingers at the back of his throat when he's done lavishing both of those little peaks with attention.

 

Reaching down, he finds Loki's cock ever so slightly plump. Not hard, no, but not unaffected either.

 

He leaves it be.

 

Oh and finally.

 

He fingers graze smooth skin, slotting with remembered ease to where it parts. And there is wetness too, just a hint, but enough for him to dip his middle finger in it and drag it upwards to where the flesh seams again and he finds, to his utter delight, a small nub that really can't be mistaken for anything else but what it is.

 

His touch is feather-light and his finger is wet enough. Loki shudders. Thor watches his face with an open smirk, sees the struggle, the denial.

 

“Gentle enough for you,” he asks, barely just tapping at the clit with the tip of his finger and Loki convulses, squirming.

 

“Is tickling the best you can do?” Loki retorts despite his apparent breathlessness. Thor bites his shoulder in warning and presses harder with his finger, not teasing any longer.

 

He noses into the crook of Loki's neck, kissing him, pressing his tongue against his pulse point to feel it flutter with increasing intensity. This is why Thor loves fucking as much as he loves battle. It's simple, truthful. Bodies don't lie.

 

He slides one finger inside of Loki with no warning, making him whimper in protest. But he can't deny that he's wet and that he takes Thor's finger in well enough. It might be a challenge for his cock still, but Thor isn't too concerned.

 

Fingers near well dripping, he rubs at Loki's clit again. He likes it best in circles, Thor can tell and he speeds up, his own cock protesting the negligence.

 

He will make his pretty Jotun come and then bury himself deep into that clenching cunt.

 

It's a sweep of the nail of his thumb that does Loki in. Feeling him fight against the sensations, Thor almost instinctively does it, dragging the edge of his nail over the swollen, sensitive spot and Loki arches like a bow underneath him, a strangled cry rising towards the ceiling.

 

Yes, _now_.

 

In one quick motion Thor is fully back between Loki's legs and he grabs his cock, guiding it effortlessly towards the wet opening.

 

And slams in.

 

He can still feel it, the tremors of the orgasm, the walls of Loki's cunt fighting against the intrusion even as pleasure still overwhelms him. Thor fucks in deep, feeling his cock getting drenched all over and he chases the heat of it, grinding in.

 

But there is something else he wants. Reaching between them, he presses his fingers against Loki's swollen clit again and rubs harshly.

 

“No, _no._ ” Where before his protests came in the shape of ineffectual squirming and biting remarks, this is where the begging truly starts.

 

With neither gentleness nor pleasure in mind, Thor torments the oversensitive nub with his fingers, swirling them just _so,_ making sure there is nowhere to hide. The thrashing jostles his cock inside of Loki in a way that threatens to put an end to this sooner than he would like and he can feel the clenching, hot and desperate.

 

“Oh, but yes, my sweet,” he growls into Loki's ear, quiet contrasted to his rising cries.

 

“Stop, stop, too much, _too much_ ,” Loki is asking all over again, not realizing that it only drives Thor on, makes him fuck as hard as he can manage with his hand still stuffed between them, stroking Loki's oversensitive clit raw. His cock is half hard, leaking profusely and Thor has to grin at the apart confusion of the body.

 

It should be pleasure, but it isn't.

 

When he finally lets off, it's only to wrap his sopping wet hand around Loki's cock.

 

He's really curious what's that going to do.

 

The slightly cooler flesh instantly hardens in his grip and Loki shakes his head.

 

“I can't.”

 

“I didn't ask,” Thor snorts, finding more purchase on his knees and slamming in while jerking Loki off roughly. It barely takes a minute – with yet another shout, Loki thrashes underneath him, cock spurting thin come. It almost looks like the wetness that's dripping between between his legs.

 

Thor swipes his fingers through it and sticks one in his mouth, tasting. Hmm. It seems to be one and the same.

 

Interesting.

 

He misses the momentarily lucid – and fascinated – look that Loki gives him, too intent on finishing himself off, fucking hard and without too much finesse, just driving in, mouthing at whichever patch of skin he can reach until it all comes together in a blinding flash – his excitement, the torment he's bestowed, the milking tightness around his cock. He grinds in one last time, groaning as his ball draw up and fill Loki with his come, each spurt feeling like it's drawing all the tension from both his mind and body.

 

“Please, I can't breathe.”

 

With an apologetic grunt, Thor rolls off. He knows he can just collapse on people, but sometimes he forgets himself.

 

“Nice to see you have some manners,” he says with his eyes closed.

 

“What?”

 

“That's the first time you said please.”

 

A little affronted huff is the last thing Thor hears before dozing off.

 

* * *

 

What wakes him is someone frantically tugging at his arm. Head thrown to the side, he opens his eyes to see Loki's black nailed fingers digging into his skin, jostling him.

 

“Tsk.”

 

And that's his sister mockingly hissing at Loki for that and Thor is wide awake suddenly, sitting up.

 

She kneels on Thor's bed, dressed in a silky dress, one hand extended as thick, black ropes dangle from her fingers. She already has them wrapped around Loki's ankles, pulling his legs wide apart. Next strands fly over to stop, belatedly, Loki's attempt to wake Thor.

 

Her other hand is between Loki's legs, two long fingers thrust inside.

 

But of course she would want Thor to be awake for this.

 

“What are you doing?” Thor snaps, barely restraining himself from bodily throwing her off the bed.

 

Ignoring the question, she shakes her head, pulling her fingers out. “He's not even bleeding.”

 

Thor's pulse is pounding with shock of being woken up by her like this and with growing anger. “Get out.”

 

Loki whimpers as she stuffs her fingers back in harshly. “Careful, little brother. I don't like your tone.”

 

Thor tries to gather himself, stuff the seething rage back down where he always keeps it.

 

“He's mine.”

 

“Well,” she drawls. “He's been someone else's before. Like I said, you didn't even make him bleed. He wasn't a virgin, and you didn't fuck him hard enough. That's no way to treat nice toys, is it?”

 

“None of your business.”

 

She laughs toothily at him for that, unconcerned. Elder sister or no, his leader or no, she has no idea how close she is to getting her arm broken if she doesn't stop touching Loki.

 

“Maybe not. I don't want him.” Her tone is nasal and her gaze is cold. “But if _you_ want to keep him, you will prove to me you've not gotten soft. Why was he sleeping with you? Do you only think with your cock that you can't even kick the slave off the bed once you're done with him?”

 

At this, Thor laughs. “My _queen_ ,” he snarls at her, knowing how she always bristles at being called that. Knowing that she is not one yet. “Is this what concerns you at the dead of the night? Whether a slave warms my bed or no? What state I leave the cunts I fuck in?”

 

Her eyes flash in violence and she withdraws, standing up. But her ropes still bind Loki in place and he's shivering all over.

 

Thor wonders how long she was in the tent before he woke. What she did or said to make Loki feel like waking _Thor,_ his own master who had just taken him harshly, would be an improvement of the situation.

 

After a moment of silence, she shakes her fingers out, black, leather-like substance, different from the ropes coiling until the weapon takes shape. It's a whip, a flogger really, small and cruel.

 

He moves to hand it to Thor. “Whip him and you may keep him.”

 

The size of the whip and way she bound Loki's legs so far apart speaks volumes as to what she means. Thor doesn't need to look at Loki to see the terror in him, in fact, he takes great care to ignore him completely, eyes never leaving his sister.

 

“No.”

 

“No? Why? Don't you enjoy that? You did it on Vanaheim, to that princess. Publicly.”

 

“She liked it,” he growls. And it's true. He hates the itch the idea is setting in his belly. Many of his bedmates, willing ones or slaves, have left him with puffy, red cunts after a thorough spanking. Usually he just uses his hand, stroking them to the brink of orgasm before pulling back to rain stinging slaps over the sensitive skin instead, but that one time, he had a belt. And people saw.

 

And of course, nothing escapes Hela.

 

“So did you. Almost embarrassed yourself, didn't you, because you liked beating her cunt that much.”

 

“He's mine. Rightfully. And not even your authority can change that,” he says with strained calm, getting up. He stands between the bed and Hela, forcing her to step back if she doesn't want to brush her dress over his cock.

 

She huffs and retreats, as ever annoyed by his height and his lack of shame. He gives her a bland smile.

 

Shaking her head with her eyes narrowed, she cocks her head to the side and looks at Loki, addressing him directly.

 

“What about you, Jotun? Are you smarter than him? Will you ask him prettily to beat you? Can you see the mistake he's making by denying me?”

 

“Stop that,” Thor snaps, his patience well and truly spent.

 

“Please,” comes a voice from behind him and surprised, Thor turns. “Please, do it.”

 

“I don't take orders from my slaves any more than I take orders from my sister,” Thor growls before rounding on Hela again and grabbing her by the arm. “Fun is over. Get out.”

 

She goes along with it, letting him push her out of the tent, laughing all the way.

 

“I'm glad you at least weren't dumb enough to do it once _he_ asked you to,” she says in lieu of goodbye, gliding off into the cold night.

 

Thor shivers and ducks back inside. On the bed, Loki is sitting up, her ropes gone, only the binding on his wrists remaining. He has both hands pressed between his legs, knees drawn up.

 

“She's going to kill me,” Loki tells him between gritted teeth. “You should have just beaten me.”

 

Frazzled more than he would like to admit, Thor has no patience for that disrespect.

 

“I still might if you don't shut up. Then you will get both the whip and her rage.”

 

“I did nothing to deserve her rage! She is just playing with _you._ ”

 

Thor spreads his arms, shocked at the gall of this little witch. “Why are you telling me this as though I don't know it? I protected you because you're mine and because I don't bow to my sister unless I absolutely have to. Not because you matter.”

 

He doesn't expect the wounded expression that flashes over Loki's face at that. Nor does he expect the brief feeling of regret at his words.

 

The conquest of Jotunheim has been long and bloody. It grates on Thor sometimes, no matter how much he relishes battle. He shakes his head to clear it.

 

“Enough,” he tells Loki with finality, joining him on the bed and tossing a fur over the both of them. The braziers are wavering and come morning, the cold will be seeping in. “You think a senseless beating would save you from her, but the truth is that she always does exactly what she wants. I, at least, won't kill you on a whim.”

 

“You have all my gratitude.” The words are laced with so much venom that Thor opens his eyes again.

 

Very well. He will need to hold on to Loki. It's a matter of pride now, not just of enjoyment of his body. He is right to be angry and scared at becoming a pawn between Thor and Hela, but if he's staying, Thor will need at least an illusion of obedience from him.

 

Yanking the fur away from Loki, he hauls Loki's legs up, pressing them to his chest, bending him in half. With a practised grip he holds him there, shifting on his knees so that one of his thighs is propping Loki's hips up. He pushes Loki's cock out of the way, tucking it upwards between his legs so that only his cunt and ass are on display, completely bared and vulnerable.

 

He almost rises his hand to strike when something catches his eye; the whip. She left it.

 

Unsure if he's not being manipulated even from afar, Thor snatches it up and, to the sound of Loki's rapid protests bring it down over the lips of cunt, hard.

 

Purple welts rise almost immediately and Loki yowls. Another stripe hits even closer to home, following the slit perfectly, striking at his clit. The final one Thor expertly lands just over his opening.

 

Tossing the whip way, he presses his entire palm against Loki's cunt, feeling the heat of the welts.

 

“That's three strikes,” he tells Loki calmly even though his cock is again throbbing with need. “I didn't come close to breaking skin. She wouldn't have let me stop until you were bleeding. Twenty, thirty strikes at the very least, I assume.”

 

Loki is hiding behind his hands and the shaking of his shoulders tells Thor he might be hiding tears.

 

He rubs his thumb over his clit, swollen now with something other than desire.

 

“Do we have an understanding?”

 

A tentative nod, with the hands still hiding his face. Thor lets him do that and takes a hold of his cock, spitting into his palm, spreading it over it before pulling Loki fully into his lap and sliding in. Loki's legs kick out and Thor holds him down even though he's not being rough. Loki is wet enough from their previous bout and after a couple of thrusts Thor can feel his come start to leak out, easing the way.

 

He props himself up on his elbows and pushes Loki's hands away from his face, nuzzling at his cheek, licking away the stray droplet of salt.

 

“Shh,” he whispers. “It isn't so bad, hm? I bet I could make you come again.”

 

He laughs when Loki hisses and starts to struggle again. Despite it, Thor rocks into him in a slow rhythm, until finally-

 

“Please.” A whimper, like it hurts him to ask. “Please, touch my cock.”

 

“As you wish, my sweet,” Thor says, knowing full well that the mockery can't be concealed, but he's laughing and Loki doesn't seem to care. Thor strokes him, no teasing or cruelty, just a tight fist dragging up and down the slim, slick column of Loki's cock in rhythm of his thrusts until Loki is panting underneath him and spilling that curious seed all over his stomach.

 

And his cunt is tightening too, spurring Thor on until he, almost lazily, finishes as well. It's only been twice but he's growing very fond of pumping his Loki full of come.

 

He rolls them over, not wanting to crush Loki underneath his weight but not ready to let him go yet either. His cock slowly slips out and Thor palms Loki's ass, reaching out to touch the slick, puffy opening of his cunt from behind. The exploring touch turns into two fingers stuffed deep and Loki shaking on top of him.

 

“Some state you are in,” Thor says. “Tomorrow you can start convincing me you're worth all this trouble. And convincing me that this-” he thrusts with his fingers, drawing a choked back sob -”deserves healing. You do have a pretty mouth, after all...”

 

He pulls his fingers out and shifts Loki off him and onto the bed. Before he can withdraw and turn around to sleep, he finds his wrist caught between two bound hands. He waits, eyebrow raised. Loki tugs him closer.

 

It's his wet hand, the one he had just used to finger Loki, messy with the mixture of his own slick and Thor's come.

 

Gaze unreadable, Loki licks out, then leans closer, taking two of Thor's fingers deep into his mouth and sucking.

 

Thor watches, fascinated. _That's more like it_.

 

Loki withdraws with a pop of his lips. His voice is scratchy when he speaks, rough with screaming and tears and exhaustion. But his words are clear: “I can be convincing.”

 


End file.
